Shell
by forestwife
Summary: Spoilers for Deathly Hallows Fred and George were my favourite characters... how could JK have been so cruel? A whole month had passed, and George was still numb.


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it's characters or it's storylines. If I had, this wouldn't have happened.

Warning: **Spoilers for the Deathly Hallows**. Contains canon character death.

Shell

A month had passed since Fred's death, and George was still numb.

At the time, his family had reacted differently. His mother had been hysterical, his father inconsolable, Ginny had sobbed for days and his brothers had all been filled with rage against the Death Eater responsible. But George had simply stopped.

After the battle, he'd re-entered the Great Hall in high spirits. After all, why wouldn't he? Voldemort was gone forever, it was a time to celebrate! But then he'd heard it…

He'd heard his mother wail, "No!" and looked over just in time to see her sobbing over someone tall and red-headed lying alongside the rest of the dead.

From the distance away he was, George couldn't see exactly who it was, it could've been any of his brothers. But without needing to see, a sick heavy feeling had appeared in his stomach and his skin had grown cold. On some level, he'd known who it was, even before he saw him.

George had sprinted the length of the hall, desperate to be proven wrong, that it wasn't true, that he wasn't gone. He'd shoved through the rest of his family, pushing them out the way in his haste. His breath had caught in his throat in a strangled cry when all his worst fears were confirmed.

It was Fred.

George had dropped beside his dead twin, not saying a word, not making a sound. All the noise and bustle of the room faded away. George didn't notice anything that was happening around him. All he could see was Fred, his brother, his twin, his partner in crime, his best friend. His life cut short. His life's light extinguished before he'd really had a chance to shine.

As George looked at Fred's pale and yet somehow peaceful face, he'd tried to understand how this could have happened. He and Fred had known what they were signing up for, joining the Order and helping in the fight against Voldemort, but of everything they'd accepted could happen, this had not been one of them.

He and Fred had known that they could be killed. But that had been the operative word—_they_. They'd always thought that if they were killed, then it would be both of them, they'd go together. That was just the way things were, Fred and George, Gred and Forge, two kindred spirits with a knack for trouble and mischief. They did everything together, they always had and thought they always would… but not anymore…

Now there was no Fred and George, no 'Weasley twins', no plural. There was only George, alone.

And even now, a month later, George still couldn't get used to that.

Everything he did, wherever he went, he kept expecting Fred to be there. He'd see something funny and turn to Fred to comment on it or shoot him a look and grin, but there'd be no one there. He'd suddenly get a great new idea for a new product for their business, but there'd be no one there to tell. When talking to someone, he'd start a sentence and then pause, waiting for Fred to finish it, but where Fred should've cut in, there was only silence.

George knew that he wasn't completely alone. He still had his parents, his other four brothers, Ginny and many friends. But it wasn't the same.

No one understood him quite like Fred had, just like no one else had completely understood Fred like he had. They'd always shared everything, having no secrets from each other (except what they were getting each other for Christmas). They'd known each other so well that they knew what the other was thinking most of the time (hence the finishing of each other's sentences). No one could ever have even hoped to claim to know Fred that well, no one but him.

So now Fred was gone, who would crack jokes at inappropriate times with him? Who would create havoc with their inventions of mischief with him? Who would play outrageous, but very entertaining pranks with him? Who would he talk to about anything and everything? Who would be there for him at any time of the day or night? Who could he be there _for_? Who could bring back the other half of his soul?

No one.

No one could fill the gap that Fred had left.

But George tried to carry on nonetheless. He tried to pull himself together and 'move on' as everyone said he should. He knew that he wasn't alone in his grief, everyone else had lost Fred too, he wasn't the only one suffering. But at the same time, an indignant voice in his head screamed that it wasn't the same, they may have lost a son, a brother or a friend, but he'd lost so much more. He'd lost his other half.

Back when Fred had still been there, the both of them had enjoyed life so much. They made the most of every day, taking every single opportunity for fun. George knew that Fred would not want him to mope around because of him. He also knew that if Fred were here, he'd call George a big girl's blouse and tell him to stop feeling sorry for himself and get on with his life. But then, if Fred were here, then there wouldn't be a problem.

But however much he tried, George couldn't see the fun in things the way he'd used to. Nothing would make him laugh, and it would take a lot to even bring a small smile to his lips.

He'd tried to carry on with his life. He'd even gone to the shop a couple of days, but it was even worse there than it was at home. George hated the way the customers would look at him. The ones who knew what had happened would look at him with such pity in their eyes, at him with his missing ear, and his missing brother. And the ones who didn't know, well, they were even worse. They would ask where his twin was, and George would have to explain over and over again that Fred was dead, killed by Death Eaters, and it was just him now.

At his reply, the customer would look guilty for asking, stammer their empty, meaningless condolences, and leave.

George had tried to only think of Fred in a good way. Not of what he'd lost, but of what he'd had. He thought of all the good times he and his twin had had. Like the time when they'd cursed Percy's door handle so whenever he tried to open the door to leave his room, it would bite his hand. Percy had yelled, demanding to be let out for a whole hour before Mum had come to see what was going on.

But thinking of the fun he and Fred had had somehow made his absence even worse. After all, there was no way George was going to pull pranks like that now. They were no fun at all when you were on your own and had no one to laugh with or high five in victory.

So, George moved through life in a numb haze. He was like a shell, withdrawing further into himself as time went by, as he struggled to just get through each day.

There wasn't a minute that passed when he didn't think about Fred, how much he missed him, and how much of a git he was for getting himself killed and leaving him all alone.

A month after his twin's death, George sat in the garden of the Burrow, looking up at the stars in the night sky and wished, not for the first time, that he hadn't been the twin to be left behind.

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_A/N: So, this is my first Harry Potter fic! I don't usually read or write for Harry Potter, but Fred and George were my absolute favourite characters of the whole series, so I had to write something to mark Fred's passing… I ask you, how could JK have been so cruel?!?! When I read that he died, I just sat and gaped at the page, sure that I was hallucinating from lack of sleep (I got the book at 1 am, then it took me 3 hours to read it). _

_I was also disappointed that there wasn't more in it about George's reaction or what happened to George, another reason why I had to write this._

_So please review and tell me what you thought!_

_RIP Fred Weasley_


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